Shower Ritual
by missy42
Summary: Romy oneshot. Rogue has a certain routine. But when Remy seeks out his touchless lover after taking a shower, a very different kind of ritual follows. R for sexual content. What else am I going to post on Valentine's Day?


Disclaimer: If I owned the Rogue, Remy, or any of the X-Men, things would be very different!

A/N: OMG, how long has it been? So, technically, this one hasn't been beta'd. I sent it to someone to look over, but they haven't sent it back, yet. Under normal circumstances, I'd wait, but I was anxious to get this one up for Valentine's Day. So, I may re-post it after I get it back from my beta reader, but it should be with only minor changes. Any comments/reviews are always welcome – nay, longed for. Longed for like Rogue longs for Remy's touch… Wow, that was sappy. Anyway, R for sexual content. The good kind. Wee! Hope you enjoy it.

Shower Ritual

by "missy42"

Remy stood outside the door, severely tempted to peek inside. Steam was wafting in from the crack under the door, her sultry voice singing the words to "Country Roads." She would be all wet and steamy and unsuspecting…no, must focus, _homme_. Mustn't startle her, not to mention control his own reaction. He had to do this just right, or it wouldn't work, and quite frankly, he had too much invested in this to let it fail.

He had studied her habits in the past, like a good thief should. He knew exactly what to expect from her. She would shower and dry off to the best of her ability. She wouldn't use a hair drier. (Bad for the environment and harsh on her hair, as she had explained it.) Instead, she'd lay her towel out over her pillow after checking to see that the drapes were closed, making it safe to walk around naked. (They always were, with the windows shut and locked behind them.) The heat from her shower warmed the room, making it hot and sultry, even in the winter. She'd move over to the door, making sure it was locked. Not that the lock would keep anyone in _this_ house out long if they really wanted to get in. It was the principal of the thing. And it, too, was always locked. She'd light the candles on the dresser next to the door with a match from the book she kept in the top drawer and turn off the light. Moving over to the desk and bookcase, she'd light the candles there and the incense in the burner on the desk. Finally, she'd light the candles on her bedside table. Lying down on her bed, on top of the covers, she's spread her wet, tumbling hair over the towel there. Then, it would begin.

When he heard the water shut off, he assumed his desired position, sliding himself under the bed. She emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later, still humming "Country Roads" to herself, a bath sheet draped carelessly over her body as she used part of it to dry her hair. True to her routine, she checked the drapes, the door, lit the candles, everything. As it was several dozen candles she had to light, this took some time. But he had waited this long for her - he could wait a little more.

Finally, her feet disappeared from the floor, and he could see the bed above him sink a little lower from the stress of her body. He shifted himself directly below where her indentation indicated she was located. He focused his kinesthetic awareness in on her, focusing completely on the movements of her exquisite body. He couldn't see her, but he could certainly feel her, and it was incredibly erotic. Remy found himself trying to calm his rising… desire once again.

Rogue loved these times. She was alone. She was safe. She felt so good, so clean. She could just pretend the rest of the horrible world didn't exist. No one hated for being a mutant. No one would back away just a little because of her powers, and she didn't have to flinch from people who didn't know better or forgot. She didn't have to worry about anything, think about anything. Instead, she used this time to focus on what she _wanted_.

She lay down on the bed, draping her auburn and white locks on the sea-green towel there. She began to feel her skin. It needed some attention, after all. She loved the way it felt after a long, hot shower. So soft, so clean, so lonely.

Her mind shifted to Remy. Her would-be lover. Normally, this skin is what kept him from her, but not after her shower. It was now, and only now, she could be with him, if only in her mind. He would love her skin. She already knew he did. She saw the way he coveted it, longed for it. God, how she wanted to give it to him, wanted him to take it, ravage it and caress it.

She took a hand, fingertips lightly touching the bare skin on her belly. Her hand became his, running over her stomach, up to her chest. His hand moved to a breast, traveling up, then circling in, igniting the nipple there. He would lean down and kiss here there, using his tongue to further excite her skin, maybe even letting his teeth lightly tug on the small erection that had developed there. She could only mimic this with her fingers as best she could, but she had learned long ago to take what she could get. His other hand began to work on her other breast. His lips would move to the space between the two, before it, too, would perform its duties on the other nipple. She would feel the heat from his body. His kisses would move back to the space between her breasts, making their agonizingly slow way down her belly to her belly button. He would let his tongue loose there, exploring the small crevice with immense ferocity. She felt a wetness between her legs that had nothing to with her shower as her hands (his hands) stroked her sides so softly they felt like they were barely there. In one slick, sexy movement, he would shift his body again, so that his lips would possess hers. His hands (her hands?) continued to roam her body. She moaned and shuttered with pleasure. His body would press closer to hers; she would feel the evidence of his arousal and kiss back with renewed passion.

She would feel a longing chill when he lifted his body slightly off hers. She would be loath to let him pull away from the kiss, but, she would remind herself, she needed air. Lips would move to her collarbone, mingling searing kisses with the lightest brushes of his mouth. His hand moved down to her thighs and she spread them ever so slightly. It was enough for his fingertips to caress the soft flesh there, and Rogue felt a prickling feeling in her loins. His hand moved to her warm, wet spot and she let gasped as finger brushed her clitoris. The hot hand remained there, and she began to slowly thrust her hips in time with the ministrations, sounds of pleasure ejaculating from her mouth (she thought she heard herself mutter his name), her legs beginning to move on their own. The hand stopped suddenly, leaving Rogue to whimper for more, loins still throbbing. _Patience, dear_, she thought to herself, _the slower, the sweeter_. A finger, the only thing touching her now, made a line up her hip, to her belly and chest, leaving a trail of her juices on the flawless skin.

Remy didn't know how long he had waited, it was all spent in agony. She was laying just a few feet above him, naked, touching herself and pretending it was him doing it. Even after he had decided it wouldn't be such a great idea to focus his spatial awareness on her, he had never been so turned on in his life. He'd never wanted anything the way he wanted her now, but he forced himself to wait.

He took his cue when she whispered his name (he had never loved hearing his own name more than at that moment), and silent as nothing, emerged from under the bed. The sight before him was spectacular. The soft light from the dozens of candles, combined with the steam still left from the shower created a beautifully eerie atmosphere. Her eyes were closed as her hands moved around her body. The candlelight caught her every naked curve and reflected off what moisture clung to her skin. Her chest heaved with each breath, heavy with desire and pleasure. She seemed so alive – more alive than he'd ever known her – as she gently writhed under her own caresses, moans escaping her lips between gasps. Remy felt as though his eyes had never seen before.

He didn't know how long he marveled at her. Seconds or decades, it didn't matter; it was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen in his life. He finally remembered himself and reached out to touch her.

The fingers began their tender touches on her belly and sides once more, and she delighted in the sensation. After a while, something changed. The touch of his fingers (no, her fingers) was different…warmer somehow. She liked it. Eyes, closed, Rogue no longer concentrated on where her hands went, just let them roam, let them feel skin, beautiful, glorious skin.

Oh God, her skin was so soft. And warm. He gasped at the sensation. There was no absorption, he remained in his own body. He was touching her, really touching her. No collars, no power suppressants. Just the two of them. He was touching her and nothing out of the ordinary was happening. It was working, by God, it was working and it brought something out of him he never would have suspected. An excitement, a high, beyond anything he'd ever experienced before. But he couldn't be too eager, not at first.

Bodily, he kept his distance. He couldn't take her by surprise, so he matched his hand up with hers, shadowing its movements across her body, watching her reaction. Eventually, her hand moved to touch his, fingers delicately moving up to his wrist. Still, her eyes were closed. He grew bolder and moved in closer. Remy seated himself on the bed, his body leaning over her propped up by an arm resting on her opposite side. His other hand was still touching her, creating its own path now as her porcelain hand moved further up his arm. He leaned down further to gently kiss her shoulder.

Rogue's imagination must have been working over time, because It had never felt like this before. She even imagined the bed getting heavier on either side of her. She thought she opened her eyes for a second, catching a vision of the object of her desire. No, she couldn't have opened her eyes. Not to _that_. She ignored it but – _there_. Just then, she could have sworn she felt his lips on her right shoulder. _Really_ felt them.

_Feels so real,_ she thought.

"Is real, chere," he seemed to say to after slowly, sensuously lowering himself down towards her, his lips next to her ears.

_There, that proved it,_ she reasoned in the back of her mind. _I didn't say that out loud. A real Remy wouldn't have heard that_. Still, she seemed to feel his breath on her cheek, her ear, her shoulder. Had she said something aloud?

Her contemplating stopped when she felt two warm, eager hands spread themselves over her lower torso. Okay, _that_ she had definitely never experienced. No matter how hot her showers were, her hands never felt that warm. Then, the lips on her neckline…this couldn't be happening – that was certainly an angle she could never get on her own.

She convinced her self to just go with it. Real or not, she had never felt like this before, and she was afraid that if she stopped believing it was happening, it would stop. Her skin grew hotter than she ever remembered it being, particularly where his skin touched hers. His hair was falling on her neck and shoulders. She could feel his legs brushing against hers. Her heart was pounding, she could barely breath, her hands trembled. She wasn't about to ruin this by over-analyzing it.

She opened her eyes once more, she was sure of it this time. Sure enough, there he was, his own naked body hovering over hers. Not only that, her arms were wrapped around him. Quickly, she closed her eyes again.

"A dream? Wonderful….beautiful…wet…dream?" she managed to breath to her imaginary lover turned tangible.

"_Non_ dream, neither," he answered between kisses.

His lips went on to discover more of her collarbone, getting more and more passionate by the second. He was right. Dreams never felt like this. But if it wasn't a dream and it wasn't her, then…

"How?"

He stopped his lip-caresses, once again moving his lips ever so slowly closer to her ear. This time, when he spoke, she could feel his lips, and even his tongue, lightly brushing against her ear.

"Shhhh, cherie. Don't worry 'bout it. It's happening. Don' question it. Jus' let it happen."

It was hard not to heed his words when she felt like this. She grew bolder, letting her hands roam over his skin, teasing his nipples. One hand cupping his buttocks, the other running through his hair. She was pleased to hear pleasurable sounds escaping his lips. Then, he began moving down her body, using hands (_his_ hands) and lips to touch every inch of her, breathing life into her lonely skin. He worked his way back up the same paths, giving meaning to her skin's new life.

When he finally reached her face, he paused. Their eyes locked, her deep green ones and his burning red ones filled with passion, amazement, understanding and lacking all fear. But most of all, there was love.

Finally he leaned in, placing his lips on hers in a passionate kiss that seared like his eyes did for her. They only broke away when she felt him slide inside her, a sensation that elicited a loud gasp out of both lovers. Their bodies rocked together, she pulling his body even closer to hers, he leaning in to kiss her more. It was wild, primitive and passionate. Their legs intertwined and slid past each other, moans grew deeper and two hearts could be heard pounding together, as they became one entity, climaxing together in a sensation neither had ever experienced.

Rogue woke up the next morning, feeling very good. Not just good, she felt so much better than good. She began to become extremely aware of her immediate surroundings. She could feel his body under hers. She counted: four arms wrapped around two bodies. She closed her eyes. Two bodies that were pressed together. She could smell herself, smell him, smell lingering sex. She smiled. So sex did have a smell. And she finally knew what it was.

His breathing changed, indicating he was awake. The smile on her face began to spread as she felt his hand begin to stroke her hair. She opened her eyes and looked up at him. She had never seen such an expression on his face before. He was smiling, too, but it wasn't his cocky grin, or his devilishly handsome one. This one wasn't over-done. It was genuine, and true happiness radiated from it. And his eyes, while still burning with passion and love, were tender, and she was sure they were smiling, too.

"It was real?" she asked, though it was more of a statement then a question. She hardly needed confirmation now.

"Was real," he replied simply.

Rogue now felt something familiar welling up inside – a choking feeling as it became a little harder to breath in and the salty wetness began leaking from her eyes. Remy's happiness faded into concern.

"_Non_, chere. All de suffering's over fo' us, non? No more tears, den, mon belle," he pleaded with her before leaning in to kiss them away.

"But they ain't bad tears, are they? No more tears o' sufferin', that's true. These are tears of happiness," she defended her tears. As he realized that the joyful expression on her face indeed remained, his own expression returned.

"Den I guess they're okay," he replied, as tears of his own began to trickle down his cheeks. She broke his gaze and returned his gesture, kissing away the first few drops.

She then leaned her cheek against his chest again, letting the tears flow freely. He wrapped his arms tight around her and her grip tightened on him as well, as if they were holding each other for dear life. They stayed that way, only the sound of their breath breaking the comfortable silence for a long time.

"Ah love you, Remy. Ah'm yours," Rogue finally spoke. She was sure he knew this already, but she felt it should be official.

"I know. I love you, too. An' I'm yours."

"Ah know."

And with that, they lingered in silence, holding each other for a long time.


End file.
